BlackHawk One-Shots from Ultron
by KatieThomas'95
Summary: What will be a series of rewritten scenes from Ultron in which BlackHawk/Clintasha lives on. Obvious spoilers for Age of Ultron.
1. Clint's Hit

A/N so the response from the last chapter was go back and do the hurt/repair. Don't worry, I will return to the farm in a couple of chapters time. In the meantime, chapter covers Clint getting hurt, the next chapter will be a lighter one when he gets repaired.

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She saw a flash of blue light in her peripheral vision, followed by a pained grunt in her earpiece. "Clint!" Her reaction was instinctive. She sprinted over to him. He was already on the ground, his bow fallen next to him, clutching his side. His face was twisted in pain but a tiny flicker of relief crossed his eyes as she came to ground next to him.

She moved his hands away to assess the damage. It wasn't good. A Thor-fist sized chunk of flesh had been blasted from his abdomen. The edges of the wound were singed.

"We have an enhanced in the field." Came Cap's voice over comms.

"Yeah, no shit." Clint grunted, his voice was quiet and strained. She ignored him.

"Clint's hit" She told the team, knowing that this wasn't something she could stitch up mid-battle. No sooner had she said it than there were a series of small explosions, the nearest going off not four feet from them. Clint grasped her hand.

"Find cover" he hissed at her, his urgency clear to hear. Like hell she was going to leave him exposed on his own though.

"Does somebody want to deal with that bunker?" She said into the comm, desperately hoping that there was someone nearby to help them out; the only cover she could drag him to at the moment was a couple of pine trees and trees are worth jack against Hydra weapons.

To her unutterable relief, a green blur streaked across her vision, leaving a pile of rubble in its wake.

"Thank you."

She finished applying the gauze to Clint's side, keeping pressure on it. Even with the tissue factors embedded in the material, the makeshift bandage couldn't hold up forever. "Clint's hit pretty bad guys, we're gonna need evac."

He groaned again and she didn't think it was entirely from pain. "I've had worse" He said through gritted teeth, leaning his head up to try and get a look at the damage. She pushed him back down.

"Yeah and I'm gonna give you a whole lot worse if you don't hold still, дебил" She growled at him.

"You can give me anything you like, sweetheart." He replied. It was a poor attempt at innuendo, its effect lessened by the ashen colour of his face. She pressed her hand harder against his wound- keeping pressure on it was the key, right?- in retaliation. Needless to say, the moan she elicited from his throat was not one of arousal.

She heard footsteps behind her. Without a second's hesitation, she flung her knife at the mercenary. It buried itself in his throat, dropping him instantly. She gunned down another two as they made to run over. There were more on their way and she was low on ammo. Thankfully, two of Tony's Iron Legion arrived, hovering in the snow next to her. Between the three of them, they dispatched another five mercenaries and cowed the rest into submission.

"We're locked down out here."

Thor dropped down out of the sky and into a crouch. "I'll get Barton to the jet." He said. She nodded, focusing on the voice in her ear. It was Cap's.

"Then get to Banner, time for a lullaby."

"Got it." She helped Clint to his feet. He gave a sharp shout of pain and almost collapsed again, but she held his weight up until Thor took him. Unable to stand unaided, Thor was forced to hoist Clint over his shoulder in the same way that Shrek did Fiona. She made a mental note to photoshop her fellow Avengers' faces onto a Shrek screenshot as soon as Clint was hopped up on meds. With a few swings of Mjolnir, Thor was away and Clint out of danger for the time being.

She set off in search of Banner, not that he would be difficult to find; the trail of felled trees that the Other Guy left behind him made for easy tracking. What the team didn't know about the lullaby was that she had developed the idea from one Clint had once used on her.

The Red Room had left more than physical marks on her. The effect on her psyche had been profound; the walls she had built up around herself kept just as much in as they did out. In the six months that followed Clint's decision to bring her in to SHIELD, he had started to break those walls down. She had started to trust him, slowly. But as those walls came down, she began to unravel. She would wake up from nightmares, forgetting who she was, who he was, believing that it was all a façade set up by her trainers.

There's nothing more terrifying than losing your mind.

Clint should have reported it to SHIELD or at least to Coulson, certainly after he woke up with her hands around his throat, but he hadn't. He had drawn on the trust that they had built together to help her regain control. It was another debt that she could never repay.

She was reminded of that debt, their lullaby, every time she helped Banner with the Other Guy.

As she saw him this time, the Other Guy was pacing having kicked a tree down.

"Hey big guy." She said.

"_Hey Romanoff."_

His head snapped around to look at her as she crouched down. "Sun's getting real low."

_She willed her eyes to meet his gaze. She knew those stormy grey eyes. Her grip on the gun wavered. "Moon's almost full tonight" She knew that voice._

She raised her hand slowly. He recognised the motion, recognised her. Her heart was pounding but she didn't let it show.

_The man raised his hands slowly, his breathing steady. She didn't try to stop him as he reached out towards her._

He raised a large green hand so that their palms were almost touching. Then she turned hers and lowered it so that her palm faced the sky. He mimicked her movements with almost child-like curiosity. She ran her hand along his skin and over onto his forearm, before finally trailing one finger along his palm and down middle finger, catching it just at the tip.

_He took her hands in his, never taking his eyes away from hers. Her hands were shaking slightly. She knew that he wasn't a threat. Then, very gently, he traced the shape of an arrow on the back of her hand._

She saw Banner in the Other Guy's eyes. He blinked and shuddered, suddenly exhausted. She turned to leave, knowing that Banner would radio them when he was ready.

_Clint. It was only Clint. She sagged slightly, allowing him to take the gun from her grasp. His eyes searched hers. "You with me?" He asked softly. She took a deep breath and nodded._

Oh the things she owed that archer.

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A/N hope you enjoyed that, do let me know what you thought :D


	2. Repair

A/N so a shorter chapter this time, but hey it was a short scene. Thank you so much to everyone who's taken the time to review/favourite/follow, your support means the world to me

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Clint groaned as he came to, doing a quick check of aches and pains that typically accompanied his trips into unconsciousness. Finishing his mental inventory, he concluded that the only out of the ordinary sensation was the tingling in his side. He sniffed the air, trying to work out where he was before he opened his eyes. Wherever he was, Nat was there.

Eyes blinking lazily, he mumbled "It tickles." Turning his head to the side, Nat swam into focus.

"I can make it hurt if you'd prefer" She replied, her face a picture of nonchalance as she used a small screwdriver to adjust one of her Widow's bites. Only the hint of warning in her voice made him realise just how serious the injury had been, just how badly he had scared her. They were each the other's weakness, the chink in the armour, the compromise. The last thing he remembered was an explosion of energy a few feet from where he was lying with Natasha pressing gauze into his wound.

"You should have got to cover." He murmured.

"That wasn't an option." She replied quietly, leaving it unsaid that she wouldn't have left him even if it meant her life.

"Natasha." He said, his voice stern.

"Clinton." She countered, just as stern.

Yes, there was no doubt that they were compromised.

She hopped off the ledge and examined the machine at work on him when Doctor Cho returned to the room. "Are you sure he's going to be okay?" She asked, allowing a caring note to enter her tone. "Pretending to need him really brings the team together." Her mocking smile might as well have been a grin as her eyes dared him to retaliate. Said retaliation would usually be a teasing punch to her arm but she was just out of reach and they both knew it. He pursed his lips and let her comment slide.

Doctor Cho spurted some biotechnical details that went straight over his head just as Banner entered. On seeing the regeneration machine do its work, his face broke into a boyish grin. "She's creating tissue."

"If you brought him to my lab, the regeneration cradle could do this in twenty minutes." The doctor's enthusiasm for her work was infectious, at least to other scientists, it would seem.

"Oh he's flatlining. Call it." Tony exclaimed as he walked in, feigning a brief search for a clock. "Time?"

"No, no, no I'm gonna live forever!" Whatever drugs the medics had him on, they were making him sound less than sober… "I'm gonna be made of plastic!" He took the plastic cup of green liquid from Stark dubiously, goodness only knew what was in it, but he was parched.

"You'll be made of you, Mr Barton." Doctor Cho assured him, as he took a sip. It tasted foul. He grimaced in distaste. Nat raised her eyebrow in an 'it's-not-that-bad-don't-be-a-wusse' kind of way. "Your own girlfriend won't be able to tell the difference." Cho continued.

"I don't have a girlfriend." He said quickly, probably too quickly. Anyone but Nat would miss the cheeky grin he shot her as he did so. Then he looked at her properly. The corner of her mouth was pinched upwards ever so slightly; she was weighing up whether to punish him for that later, even if he hadn't exactly lied. She took a sip from her own cup of nasty green liquid. He smirked at the flicker of a grimace that broke through her carefully schooled features. Her eyes narrowed and her Widow's bite crackled with electricity.

Oh yeah, he was definitely gonna pay for that later. Though judging by the dangerous mischief glinting in those enigmatic green irises, whilst the punishment would likely hurt at first, it would develop into something they'd both very much enjoy.

The heart rate monitor beeped loudly, betraying his anticipation at their activities for the evening.

Nat rolled her eyes. Amateur. She didn't have to say it, to say it.

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A/N okay so chances are I'll move back to the farm in the next chapter, I think it's time BlackHawk had that heart to heart, but aside from that, what other scenes from the film would you like to see? Let me know what you think, hope you enjoyed this chapter :D


	3. Going Underground

A/N okay so having watched AoU, my previous control over my obsessions has shattered so here's hoping that this sorts that out. The first chapter is on the plane but I'll add other chapters and rearrange them into chronological order as i write/upload them.

To anyone reading my Criminal Minds fics, I'm working on them, honest, but it's hard to write when your brain goes into meltdown over a now non-canon ship...

Enjoy

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Clint sighed quietly as his eyes scanned the clouds brushing past the cockpit of the plane, resisting the urge to switch to autopilot so that he could check on Nat. Her vacant stare and the slight crease of her brow as he guided her onto the plane had him worried, really worried. It was an expression he had only ever seen when she opened up about the Red Room, about the past that she worked so hard to keep locked away in the darkest recesses of her mind.

The knowledge that that punk-kid had opened up her Pandora's Box made his blood boil.

He glanced back down at the coordinates that were their destination. He wished that Nat had been more responsive when they had boarded, that they had been able to discuss the use of the safehouse. When Stark had asked where they were going, his answer had been honest, if vague. But it wasn't just a safehouse. It was _their_ safehouse. The place they fled to if ever their lives began to overwhelm them.

That wasn't often, mind you. Rarely did they come across a challenge they couldn't face head on.

The only people who knew the farmhouse existed were the two of them, Coulson and Fury. Were it not for their current situation, he would have kept it that way. The farmhouse was the one place that didn't feel tainted by the outside world and that was about to change. But with nowhere else to go, it would have been selfish to force the team to look elsewhere to go underground.

Screw it. He needed to talk to Nat. The team would find out about them soon enough and the autopilot could keep the plane on course for the time being.

He switched to autopilot and made his way to the back of the plane, scanning the shadowed outlines of the team. Cap was hunched forward, staring into space. Banner had fallen into a restless sleep. His limbs were tangled in a thin blanket and a sheen of sweat stained his forehead. Thor was spinning Mjolnir in his hands, deep in thought. Nat had her back to him. Only Tony stirred as he left his seat.

"Want me to take the wheel, Barton?" He asked, his tone unusually subdued.

"It should be fine but be my guest." Clint was more focused on Nat. He crouched in front of her and took her hands in his. "We're heading home." He told her softly. He rubbed his thumbs in small circles on her skin before ghosting the shape of an arrow on the back of her hand.

The corners of her lips turned upwards in the smallest of smiles as she met his gaze. She knew what he meant by home. Not a rented apartment, not the Avengers' Tower. _Their_ home.

Her eyes flickered towards Tony and her hint of a smile became a wry grimace. The team would find out about them. Or rather, Cap, Thor and Banner would. Tony would be over the moon when his suspicions were confirmed. There had been a great deal of hushed speculation about the relationship between the two assassins. Tony had first voiced his thoughts after the battle of New York, convinced that they were doing 'the dance with no pants' on a regular basis. Cold eyes and a sickly sweet smile from Nat had silenced him.

The second time he'd brought it up was after the team had moved full time into the newly named Avengers' Tower. Jarvis had ratted them out, albeit accidentally. Following the episode in which Tony had triumphantly exclaimed 'I knew it! I knew they were sleeping together' to the rest of the team, Clint had coolly asked him what his favourite kind of wood was. Tony had looked at him in confused amusement, some crude innuendo no doubt begging to leave his lips.

"Rosewood" He had replied, his confusion still evident on his face. Clint had glanced at Nat.

She had raised her eyebrows slightly and paused as if in thought. "A good choice. Somewhat pricey for a coffin but I don't think Stark Industries would mind footing the bill."

Stark had dropped the topic and Jarvis's voice interface had mysteriously gliched up an octave for the rest of the week. Whilst nothing more had been said, both assassins suspected there was some kind of long running bet going on between their fellow Avengers.

Clint squeezed her hand gently as her expression became absent once again. He hated seeing her like this, watching the same questions and doubts running through her head again. Moving smoothly into the seat next to her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. She leaned into him and entwined her fingers in his.

"We'll be home soon." He murmured.

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A/N so this is my first avengers fic, chances are i'll continue with it regardless but i'd love to hear what you think.


	4. Home

A/N wow, I didn't expect the first chapter to be nearly so well received. thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourited/followed.

Enjoy

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The sun had risen by the time the weary warriors touched down a short distance from the farmhouse. Clint kept his hand on the small of Nat's back as they trudged towards the door. It was a protective gesture- one that would usually earn him a sharp glance and an extra punch on the sparring mat- but she was either too distracted by her demons or too tired to pull him up on it. He could feel the eyes of the team flicking between them and the house, slowly putting the pieces together.

"Err, Barton, care to explain?" Tony said with a hold-on-I-thought-you-were-screwing-each-other-not-playing-house-together sort of look on his face. Clint drew a key from around his neck and slid it into the lock. Their keys were more symbolic than anything else; as Nat had pointed out years ago, why bother with a key when you can pick a lock faster?

"Phil and Fury helped us set this up a few years back," He replied easily. "There's no record of it in any SHIELD files, paper or otherwise. We'd like to keep it that way."

"Of course" said Cap. He was utterly sincere, if stunned. Tony was babbling something about the notion of a domesticated Black Widow –yeah, as if Nat could ever be domesticated- but Clint quickly tuned him out.

He felt her relax against him as they stepped through the front door. They were home.

They both reached automatically for the wedding rings in the little dish by the door and slipped them on. The calm that washed over them was a soothing balm. After a second, Nat nudged him, the wicked-ass grin that he loved so much playing on her lips. Neither of them turned towards the team as she let her hand drop, bringing the ring on her finger into their eye line.

Right on cue, the sound of three jaws and a hammer hitting the floor graced their ears.

Nat's eyes glinted as they turned to face the team. Thor was staring at them in disbelief. Cap's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his skull. Tony's mouth was opening and closing like a guppy. The great Tony Stark, king of the snappy one-liners, rendered speechless. In contrast, Banner's expression was simply a smug smile.

Clearly, whatever bet had been running, Banner had won it. "It's alright guys," He said, clapping Thor and Cap on the shoulder, "We can settle up when we're next near an ATM. Stark, you'd better hope we return to your tower sometime soon or I'll be eyeing up more than just your helium-neon laser."

Tony recovered himself sufficiently to splutter out an astounded exclamation of "You two are married?!"

Nat sauntered over to him and patted his cheek. Her voice sultry, she said softly in his ear "Now you know one of the reasons why Natalie Rushman didn't throw herself at your feet." Dammit Clint loved it when she talked like that.

Cap was blushing furiously as Tony stood agape. She winked as she walked back over to him, hips swaying lightly. He chuckled and draped his arm around her, heading for the stairs.

"What do you mean, one of the reasons?" Tony called after them.

Nat ignored him. "Spare rooms are on the first floor, bedding's in the closets. Food is in the kitchen. Attic is out of bounds unless Rogers wants his face to blush a deeper crimson than it's already managing. Thor, if you eat all my pop-tarts I will end you." She tossed the words casually over her shoulder but everyone on the team knows that the Black Widow doesn't make threats, only promises.

Clint couldn't resist looking back and smirking. "All mine" He mouthed.

Nat jabbed her elbow into his ribs.

As they climbed the stairs out of sight of the guys, her saunter became more of a traipse and he realised just how exhausted she was.

By the time they had ascended to their attic bedroom, her head was drooping forward and she was leaning on him. He kicked the door shut behind them and flopped onto the bed. "No boots on the bed." Nat mumbled. Her heart wasn't really in the admonishment; she had that haunted look to her that told him that although she needed it, sleep would not be restful. He sighed and rolled off the bed again, kicking off his boots and stripping off his Hawkeye attire.

She slipped out of her Widow suit and unclipped her bra. Yes, contrary to speculations aired by a certain Avenger, the Black Widow did in fact wear underwear beneath that figure-hugging leather…. Well, there had been one or two exceptions to that statement but those were stories for another time.

She shrugged into an old t-shirt of his and collapsed onto the bed, shuffling under the covers. Feeling fatigue tug at his own eyelids, he climbed in next to her and tucked his body around hers. He nuzzled his face in her hair, breathing her in. "Talk about it later?" he murmured. She just nodded and wrapped his arm around her, intertwining their fingers again.

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A/N hope you guys will stick along for the ride, review in the meantime :D


	5. Clear My Head

A/N **update 05/04/15 the THE NEW CHAPTER IS CHAPTER 2 (REPAIR), I put them in chronological order**

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Natasha wanted nothing more than to sleep away the weariness from her limbs and the memories of her past from her mind. She had hoped that in the familiar safety of their bed and with Clint's scent on her skin that sleep might come a little easier. It didn't. Although she drifted in and out, she was restless. The memories kept flashing through her thoughts, keeping her on edge.

Sensing her unease, Clint stroked his thumb over the fine white scars that encircled her wrist; some of the last visible marks left by the Red Room. He brushed her hair to the side, exposing the nape of her neck. Just below her hairline was the faintest silver outline of a spider, the last remnant of her black widow tattoo. He pressed his lips to it and kissed the skin softly. Her trainers had forced that tattoo on her. "Never forget what you are." That was what they had told her as the ink was laid into her skin.

She had the tattoo removed the day after he proposed to her.

He kissed the skin there so that she would never forget who she had become or what she meant to him.

Sometime later, he fell asleep; his even breaths tickled the skin of her neck. He only stirred when, after two hours of broken sleep and a further hour of staring at the ceiling, she moved quietly out of the bed and dragged a small crate out from under it. "You okay?" He mumbled sleepily, without opening his eyes.

She leant forward and kissed him gently. "It was a dream." She murmured, not necessarily referring to any nightmare that might taint her sleep, "I just need to go clear my head."

One eye opened just a crack. The corners of his mouth curved into a teasing grin. "Want me to tag along?"

She smirked back at him, one eyebrow arched in dry amusement. He always knew how to cheer her up. Her version of clearing her head was ripping up the trails that wound through the woods on her dirt bike, and she knew that the sight of her on any sort of motorcycle turned him on immensely. Unfortunately, when she had finally let him try out the bike for himself… Well, he'd ended up with a concussion and bruised ribs and she'd spent the next two weeks putting her beloved bike back together.

She shimmied into her padded clothes and some of her protective gear before leaning over to him again. "Careful, I might just take you up on that." She whispered in his ear, her voice reflecting her smouldering eyes. She gently nipped his earlobe as she drew back, knowing it would drive him crazy.

"Is there no limit to your cruelty, seductress?" He asked hoarsely, his eyes glinting with mirth. She grabbed her boots and helmet from the crate. Heading for the door, she grinned wickedly over her shoulder at him.

"Actually, perhaps I'll invite Cap along." She mused out loud, "We know how he loves his motorbikes."

She ducked without looking as a pillow flew over her head and hit the wall with a soft thump.

She chuckled softly for a moment and then moved silently through the house, wolfing down a couple of pop-tarts on her way. The box had already been opened, apparently Thor had set to pillaging her supplies before bedding down upstairs. The late morning sun was warm on her skin as she put her boots on and walked over to the barn.

Her bike had originally been a standard Kawasaki re-sprayed in black and red, but with all the tinkering she'd done over the years and ideas that she'd stolen from Stark- his security system wasn't nearly as secure as he thought- it was now a mishmash of parts that melded together to react exactly how she wanted. The perfect combination of speed and manoeuvrability, it was also the only bike she owned that wasn't weaponised.

She stroked her hand over the smooth fabric of the dust cover, allowing the material to pool between her fingers briefly, before sweeping it away with a flourish. Smiling, she caressed the gleaming metalwork beneath. "Oh, how I've missed you."

Hearing the familiar thrum of the motorcycle engine from the barn, Clint grinned to himself. His grin only widened as he listened to the engine roar and Nat speed away. He knew her better than he knew himself; she would ride for several hours, mentally working through her emotions, working out what she wanted to say. Brushing out the tangles, as it were. Then, when she returned they would sit down and talk about it, working out the knots together.

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A/N If you're looking for the new chapter, it's currently Chapter 2- Repair


	6. Monsters

A/N a more angsty chapter this time, and longer, as a thank you for all the support I've had with this story. Hopefully I did this justice.

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Clint was in the kitchen with Stark and Cap when he heard Natasha return. She had been gone for the better part of four hours. Thor had already left, searching for answers, and Banner was outside on the porch, mulling over a cup of coffee. He snapped his attention back to the conversation going on around him.

"Which one of you actually wears the trousers in this relationship?" Stark asked loudly. He was still coming to terms with the idea of his two… favourite wasn't really the word but okay, favourite… assassins being married. Steve rolled his eyes. Clint was beginning to wish that he'd slipped some of Nat's "spices" into Tony's coffee; then he might get a break from all these questions.

How good is the sex? How did you propose? Why wasn't I your best man? Seriously, you picked your handler as best man? Do we still call her Romanoff? Or is it Romanoff-Barton? I bet she likes Mrs Barton in the bedroom. The list went on…

He was considering actually answering Stark's latest question but the man had already moved on. "So when are we going to see some toddler assassins running around this house?" He asked, only half in jest.

A knife buried itself in the wood between Tony's pinky and ring fingers with a loud thunk. In his haste to escape, he fell backwards over his chair and landed heavily on the floor. Natasha was standing in the doorway.

"Natasha. We have rules. No weapons at the table." Clint said sharply. When she looked at him, she smirked, but her eyes were cold.

"Yeah, yeah I know." She said "Though technically the weapon is _in_ the table, not _at _the table." Her voice was flatter than it would usually be when brushing off an admonishment, not that Steve or Tony would notice. Tony was crouching behind the now upright chair, trying to decide whether he would need to flee in the next five seconds.

Clint walked over to the table and retrieved Nat's knife, giving Tony a look that said 'you can get up but keep your trap shut.' Tony obliged, albeit hesitantly, eyeing Nat the same way an antelope does a lion on the prowl. She ignored him and poured herself a cup of coffee. Clint handed her the knife and leant against the counter, their shoulders just touching.

Children was a difficult subject. Nat had told him about the procedure the Red Room had performed on her, the graduation ceremony. Even if she were able to conceive, having a child would also present a commitment that neither of them wanted. Not a commitment to each other- they already had that. Not a commitment to the child- they would love that child with everything they had. No, a child would force them to commit to continue living if either of them were killed. Although they had never spoken of it, they both knew that if one of them were to die, the other would continue just long enough to avenge them. Then they would follow.

See you on the other side. It was what they promised each other before each mission. It didn't matter which side that was.

"We would not raise assassins." He told Tony quietly. For once, he had the decency to respond with awkward silence, an almost apologetic look on his face. Nat took the mug in her hands and turned to leave. "Besides," Clint continued, "What makes you think we'll even live that long?" He gave a small chuckle to lighten his question. "Sometimes I wonder if you forget that we don't have an armoured suit or magic hammer or a supersoldier serum or an Other Guy to keep us safe. Someday we'll get caught out." He shrugged. It was a fact of life, and they were nothing if not realists.

Steve frowned. "You could retire?"

"And grow old together in a house with too many rooms?" Natasha asked bitterly. Both Tony and Steve flinched at her tone. Clint sighed as she slipped silently from the room.

Natasha was in turmoil as she walked out on to the porch. Bruce was still there, staring into the distance, deep in thought. She went over to him, finding his calm pensivity reassuring. She took a gulp of her coffee, enjoying the slight searing feeling as the bitter liquid coursed down her throat. After a moment, she said softly, "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

His lips were set into a grim line. "The world has seen him now. Seen the real Hulk. There's no coming back from that." He bowed his head. "All I create is fear and chaos, I have no place here."

"You're wrong Bruce." She replied.

"You don't fear me?" His voice was flat. He didn't believe her.

"Not you, no. The Other Guy sure, I'd be a fool not to." She sighed quietly, her grip on the coffee mug tightening as her mind lead itself back to her adolescence. "The people who trained me, they teach you that fear is a weakness. So they force you to confront each of your fears and eradicate it. The theory is simple: scared of heights? Don't fall. Scared of the dark? Make a light. Scared of the unknown? Know. Scared of a man? Kill him. Fear becomes an alien concept, you forget what it feels like."

Bruce looked at her, confused. "But you fear the Other Guy?"

She nodded. "There are only two things I truly fear." She whispered. "The Other Guy… and Clint." She paused for a moment. "Care to take a guess at why that is?" She looked him in the eye and saw only understanding.

"Because you couldn't kill either of them." He finished for her.

"The day of New York, when the Helicarrier was attacked, was the single most terrifying day of my life…" She trailed off. She didn't need to explain why. She'd never forgotten the fear that had paralysed her after she fled the Hulk, nor the fear that had set her limbs ablaze as she fought Clint. Despite the pain it would have caused him, had it come down to it, she would have allowed him to kill her rather than take his life.

"I only fear that which I cannot kill. What does that say about me?" She stopped and poured the remainder of the coffee down her throat. "There are different kinds of monsters, Bruce. You think the Other Guy is the only one on this team?" She shook her head and walked back inside. Or she would have but Clint blocked her path.

"You, me, sparring, now." He growled, grabbing her arm and marching her to the grass at the side of the house. He wasn't angry, he was frustrated. With the witch and her mind games, with Natasha and with himself. It was the same frustration that he knew Nat herself had been victim to after his time under Loki's control.

They had worked it out in much the same way then.

They took up their positions but for once, he was the one to initiate an attack. He started slow, testing her, feeling her out. He didn't need to. He knew her as well as he knew himself. As their pace increased, she matched him blow for blow, parrying each cut, punch and kick and returning them. It was a deadly dance; a single miss-step and the whole thing would fall apart. Neither cared that the rest of the team had gathered outside to watch, neither could see the awe on their faces. Their attention was focused entirely on each other, on the tiny tells that allowed them to predict their next move. Moves and countermoves.

He pressed harder in his attack, forcing her to retaliate. Her striking red hair tossed wildly as she whirled and dodged, sweat was pouring off them both. He tried to throw her off guard by switching up the rhythm, choosing a kick to the knee where he might usually elbow her stomach but she caught him with ease and drove him back. She always was the better at hand-to-hand combat, even if he'd never admit it aloud.

But he could feel her holding back, afraid that in a split second she might lose control, or lose herself and actually hurt him. He could see the flickers in her eyes as the younger Black Widow fought through and then was beaten back by Natasha. It was in one of these flickers that her guard dropped just a fraction; enough for him to duck beneath her kick tackle her to the ground.

He straddled her and pinned each of her wrists, breathing heavily. She was by no means immobilised but she made no move to throw him off. The pain in her eyes was raw to see. It was a pain he had seen all too often in their early days. "You are not a monster!" He shouted hoarsely.

Tears glazed her eyes but the guilt and pain in them did not lessen. He released one of her wrists and stroked his palm against her cheek, leaning forward so that his forehead rested against hers. "Natasha, my love." He murmured sadly, "Do you think I would have spared you, all those years ago if that were the case?" He brushed his thumb over the ring on her finger. "Do you think I would have married you?"

A few treacherous tears formed tiny rivulets across her skin and she stared up at him, searching his eyes for something, he wasn't sure what. He could see the guilt and pain begin to recede from hers though, and that was all he wanted. He pressed his lips to her forehead. "You are so much more than what they made you." He whispered.

When he looked back at her this time, all he saw was determination and exhaustion. Determination to wipe the red from her ledger. Exhaustion because no matter how hard they worked, however many people they saved, the red would always be there. Then he saw acceptance. They accepted the red, and its defining role in their lives. Acceptance it that it drove them to do better, to be better. And that was good enough for him, good enough for her.

She brought her hand to his cheek and smiled softly. Then the world span as she flipped him, reversing their positions. "You made me more." She said quietly, a small smile on her lips. She stood up and extended a hand to him, helping him up. He stopped her though and looked her in the eye once again.

"You were always more than the Black Widow, Nat. I just helped you to see it."

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A/N okay so I'm probably done with the farm stuff now, unless there's something else anyone wants to see there. I'm not sure which scene I'll rewrite next- I'd like to go back and do a lighter chapter for part of the party, but I might do when natasha is taken by ultron or when clint almost dies. Of course if you've got another scene you'd like to see then by all means fire away. I'll count up votes (so review/pm) for which I'll write next. Over to you guys :D


	7. About A Fella'

A/N okay so i'm jumping back to the party for this chapter- the first half of it anyways, i'll do another chapter for when Ultron appears I think. I realise that rearranging chapters can be confusing so i'll put them in chronological order at a later date, probably once i've finished them all.

Enjoy a nice light chapter

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Natasha rolled her eyes just slightly as she watched Clint attempt to extricate himself from a particularly dull conversation. She was standing behind the bar; a good vantage point for surveying the small crowds of people that mingled throughout the room.

He had been stood with that particular group of people for some time now and she'd seen his eyes wandering around the room, looking for someone to help him escape. She supposed that perhaps she should have gone over and pulled him away, claiming some sort of emergency, but it was far more amusing to watch him squirm and fidget.

Clint had never been one for small talk. Oh sure, if a mission required it, Hawkeye could assume a persona and charm any mark that passed his way but as Clint Barton he was more reserved and awkward. Not massively so, but enough for her to spot it and elbow him good-humouredly for it. When she'd asked him why he didn't just assume those personas at Stark's parties he'd muttered something about keeping business and pleasure separate. It still amused her that he hadn't caught the irony of that statement with regard to their relationship until much later.

She had the tiniest of smirks on her face when Clint caught her eye. Without a second thought, he gulped down the last of his drink, motioned to his now empty glass and excused himself from the group of dressed up guests.

He waltzed over to her, all charm and sophistication, eventually coming to lean against the bar. "So," he said, "How'd a nice girl like you end up working in a dump like this?" She glanced pointedly at the crystal glass in his hand and allowed a hint of disapproval to crease her brow as she saw the last drops of his vodka martini pooling in the bottom of it. She suspected he'd done that on purpose; he knew her opinions on the correct way to drink vodka. Freeze-chilled and uncontaminated.

She sighed dramatically, deciding to play along. "Fella' done me wrong." She shook her head in mock sadness and took the glass from his hand, placing it under the counter- he was not having any more of that swill. If he was going to drink vodka in her presence, she'd make damn sure he did it right. She set two chilled shot glasses on the countertop.

She looked at him with a taunting glint in her eye and crouched gracefully to press her thumb to the fingerprint scanner on the freezer door. A separate compartment opened, revealing a frosty bottle of vodka. Not the laughably 'premium' bullshit you could find on the shelf of any liquor store in New York, not the 'premium' vodka that had more in common with paint stripper than true Russian vodka. Oh no, this was a bottle of _real_ vodka: distilled, filtered, relaxed and bottled in a little known distillery in a hidden corner of St Petersburg. Pouring them each a shot, she couldn't help but admire the subtle blue lustre of the cold liquid.

"He must be a fool to wrong such a beautiful woman." He replied casually. She smiled and batted her lashes prettily.

"Well I s'ppose not every fella' can be known for his brains." The corner of her mouth curved upwards slightly, "And my momma warned me I had lousy taste in men." She winked at him as he started to protest, breaking character. "But he's handsome, in his own way, and strong and brave" She purred. He was hanging on to her every word with a tell-me-more-about-this-man-and-stroke-my-ego-while-you're-at-it look on his face.

"Sounds like a catch." He said, his voice husky and his eyes smug.

She nodded, she walked her fingers over the granite countertop, slowly and elegantly, until they brushed against his tie. His breath hitched in his throat. "He's funny, when he wants to be, but he can be deadly serious too." She gripped the silk lightly and gave it a gentle pull, bringing him closer to whisper in his ear. "And don't get me started on his prowess in the bedroom…" He shuddered, his eyes closed. A light flush coloured his cheeks. Oh the things her voice could do to him.

She pulled back suddenly, leaving him momentarily abandoned. "He's got a temper on him though, always getting himself into fights. And do you know what I tell him?"

She beckoned with a sly finger and he leaned forward eagerly, drinking in her words.

She shrugged and allowed exasperation to colour her voice. "I tell him, 'Hun, that shield of yours won't protect you forever. Someday you'll toss that glorified Frisbee and the damn thing'll just fly away.'"

Clint slumped against the bar like a deflating balloon. She threw her head back and laughed- who needs a cold shower when Captain America works just as well? He rolled his eyes and shook his head, a rueful smile on his face. "Funny, Nat, real funny."

She just continued laughing.

He picked up one of the shot glasses, intending to down it. Then he saw that mischievous glint in her eye and thought better of it. "Is this gonna blind me for the next three days?" He asked suspiciously, remembering all too well the fiasco that had followed a drinking competition that ended with this exact vodka.

"It was one time, Clint. You really need to let that go." She replied dryly. It wasn't her fault that his liver was of inferior quality to hers. At least he'd learned his lesson about challenging her to a drinking competition.

She took a mouthful of her vodka and almost moaned in pleasure. She allowed a contented sigh to escape her as it ran down her throat. Clint still looked a little dubious but did the same anyway. His was not so much an expression of pleasure so much as one of tolerance. She shook her head in exaggerated disappointment.

"What?" He asked defensively, apparently believing that he had masked his displeasure a little better than that.

She downed the rest of her shot and then smiled sadly. "I had planned to take the rest of the bottle back to my room… I had thought that we might… enjoy it, together, later on…" She allowed her words to hang in the air suggestively. Clint caught on immediately. He necked the remainder of his own shot, keeping eye contact with her the entire time.

When he placed his glass back on the bar, his eyes darkened. "Well I suppose if we had the time, there are certain activities that might… teach me to enjoy it more."

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A/N yeah I'm gonna up the rating to T for this fic, just in case. Let me know what you thought of this chapter, even though it was a quiet one :D


	8. Worthy

A/N this chapter turned out waaaay longer than expected, so i'm hoping that's a good thing for you guys. Thank you to discordchick, Mokikaitlyn, Band-Nerd1013, jellybean96 and Guest for reviewing the last chapter. You guys are great motivators and it's nice to know i'm getting this fic right for you.

Anyways, enjoy this chapter (continuation of the party)

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"It's a trick." Clint declared, twirling one of his drumsticks like a baton. Apparently he was feeling a little cocky after his improvised drum solo earlier. She had to admit (never to his face of course), he was pretty good, but she'd warned him countless times not to quit his day job. Day job being a rather loose term… Was quitting even an option for them? Somehow she doubted it.

A poor imitation of Thor's booming voice reached her ears. "Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power." She raised her eyes to the heavens; would he ever learn? "Whatever, man, it's a trick!" He was such a child.

Don't rise to it, don't rise to it…

"Please, be my guest." Thor motioned to Mjolnir. Aaand here we go… Natasha focused on Clint, willing him to sit his ass back down. But nope, never one to back down from a challenge or a bet, he strutted around to where Mjolnir is resting on the table. Oh for the love of God.

"Oh this is gonna be beautiful."

"Clint, it's been a tough week, we won't hold it against you if you can't get it up."

She resisted the urge the smack her palm to her forehead as she shared a look with Maria. They were surrounded by children. Not missing the lightning fast wink that Clint shot in her direction, she simply raised her eyebrow.

He curled his fingers around the handle and pulled. Mjolnir didn't budge a millimetre. Of course it didn't. Whilst scepticism came naturally to her, she'd learned some time ago that it was good to let that pass her by when in the presence of a god. Apparently Clint was just now learning that lesson. About damn time.

He bowed out as gracefully as he could manage and flung himself down onto the couch beside her. He made to grab for her beer but she jerked it away. "Ah. Don't even think about it, дебил."

And then it was Tony's turn to attempt to pick up the hammer, thus beginning a long charade of unworthiness. She stifled a laugh at the look on Thor's face when Steve made his attempt. Oh yes, they'd both seen it budge just the tiniest bit, even if no-one else had noticed. At least there was one good man on the team.

Then Bruce, ever the gentlemen, gestured for her to take the floor.

"Widow?" Tony asked.

She tensed ever so slightly and knew that Clint had noticed. She felt his eyes flicker up towards her. With a past as chequered as hers… even trying would just feel… wrong. Smiling graciously, she took a swig from her beer and shook her head. "Oh no, no, that's not a question that I need answered" She replied smoothly. She already knew the answer.

She relaxed again as the attention slid from her and felt Clint do the same beside her. She zoned out for a minute or so, allowing the jovial atmosphere to wash over her once again. Tony was saying something about whosoever had the fingerprints of Thor would be worthy. An interesting theory… even more so when she saw him look purposefully at Banner, who surreptitiously removed Thor's empty glass from the table and placed it carefully in his jacket pocket.

Oh she couldn't wait to see the outcome of that particular experiment.

"Yes, well, that's a very, very interesting theory. I have a simpler one. You're all not worthy." Thor casually picked up Mjolnir and flipped it in his hand with a flourish.

Suddenly a loud noise, the sort you get with radio interference, echoed through the room, causing a collective wince. Hadn't the DJ gone home by now? Then she heard a slight scraping sound. She snapped her head around to identify the source of the noise. Clint had heard it too.

"Worthy?" A gravelly robotic voice asked. The rest of the team had caught on now. They too stared in confusion at the shambling, beat-up robot that shuffled awkwardly across the floor. "No. How could you be worthy? You're all killers."

Well that was putting it a little simply…

"Stark?" Cap asked.

"Jarvis?"

Her gaze flitted to Clint's for a second, and then to his hands. _Where's your bow?_ She was asking him. He glanced at the bar, then at her again. _Gun and bites?_ She gave an almost imperceptible nod. _Also beneath the bar._ He blinked once in response and they both stood up slowly.

"Sorry, I was asleep. Or… I was a dream." The run-down robot continued. So far he wasn't much of a threat but even so… Stark was telling Jarvis to reboot but nothing seemed to be happening. It wasn't a sort of technical glitch that Natasha had ever seen before, at least it was nothing similar to anything she'd ever unleashed on Tony- and she could be creative when she wanted to be.

The robot was stringing words into not entirely coherent sentences. "There was this terrible noise. And I was tangled… in strings. I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy"

"You killed someone?"

"Wouldn't have been my first call." The robot replied quickly. "But out in the real world we're faced with ugly choices."

"Who sent you?" demanded Thor, adjusting his grip on Mjolnir.

And then Tony's voice graced their ears. But it wasn't coming from Tony, it was coming from the robot. "I see a suit of armour around the world."

Bruce's eyes widened in shock. "Ultron?" He looked at Tony. She couldn't quite read the look on his face. Caution, confusion… and a hint of accusation.

"In the flesh. Or no, not yet. Not this Christmas."

Clint edged ever so slightly closer to her; she could feel the tense, coiled energy radiating from his skin. She knew the same energy was radiating from her own skin. Her heart was beating fast, and the world was slowing as her body geared up to fight. There was more to this 'Ultron' than the ramshackle, strung together drone in front her them, they could both sense it. They could hear it in its voice.

"But I'm ready; I'm on a mission." Ultron continued.

"What mission?" She asked carefully, her body poised and prepared to spring towards the bar.

Ultron turned his gaze towards her. "Peace in our time." And with that, two more drones burst through the wall and debris blasted across the room. The Avengers exploded into action. Natasha and Clint dropped and rolled to the side as Steve kicked the table up, deflecting the first two drones.

After that, chaos reigned.

She and Clint leapt up from their roll and dashed for the bar, jumping the countertop. An explosion behind them threw them off balance and they landed in a heap behind the bar, Clint's face in her cleavage. "Eyes on my face, Barton." she snapped. "Now is not the time for foreplay."

He shot her a grin but quickly removed himself and grabbed his bow. She snatched up her gun, quickly drawing a bullet into the chamber and slipped on her Widow's bites. She poked her head up above the counter as Clint slung his quiver over his shoulder. "Sit-rep?"

"Thor's on one. Steve has another." She replied quickly. She wasn't sure what Stark was doing- all she could see was him half on the ground grasping a techy looking skewer. "Stark's doing whatever he does without his suit. No eyes on Rhodey."

"What about the Other Guy?"

"Just Banner for now. He's under the piano. Don't know how long it'll stay that way." Her eyes snapped towards the window as the sound of breaking glass reached her. She recognised Loki's sceptre in the grip of another drone. "One's taken the sceptre." She took a couple of shots at the drone who was zeroing in on Maria. It turned towards them. "And now we've got incoming." Thankfully only the drone she'd shot at was now zooming towards them- Tony had just launched himself at the fourth.

Clint loosed a several arrows at the incoming drone. "You need to get up to Banner!" He shouted, "Go now! I've got you covered!"

She sprinted up the stairs, a trail of bullets following each step. She was just ahead of them when she ducked behind the pillar. She trained her sights on the drone shooting at Clint and quickly opened fire. It reeled back and turned towards her, pin pointing her position. "Clint! Now!"

He leapt up the stairs, taking refuge behind the wall to the left. "Go!" He yelled.

She ran to Banner, skidding to halt beneath the piano next to him. "You okay?" She shouted above the din of explosions and bullets. Bruce nodded at her but kept his hands clamped over his ears. She could see the battle going on in his eyes. "Bruce! You've gotta hang on okay? I'm gonna get you out of here!" He just nodded at her again, his jaw clenched.

There was an entrance to the airducts just a few feet from them. Good thing Banner didn't have a problem with tight places. "Okay buddy. You're gonna head through the ventilation system down to the lab. You good with that?" She pointed quickly to the grate in the wall.

"Yeah, I'll manage!"

"Okay!" She could barely hear herself think. She swiftly aimed at the screws holding the grate in place and shot them off. "You'll crawl in head first. Take the second right, follow it for ten feet, then take the ladder down for twenty-five feet. Go through the hatch on your right and keep going until you reach the end, then take the left turn. Another six feet and there'll be a hatch that opens into the lab right in front of you." She stopped. He seemed to take it all in, even if he did look a tad bemused as to why she knew those directions. She shrugged. "Remember all that? I don't want to spend the next two days searching for you if you get lost!"

"Yeah, got it!" He yelled.

"Good, on my mark then. One, two, three" They scrambled to the grate, Natasha crouched defensively in front of it. "Good luck!" She shouted back towards Banner as he disappeared into the duct.

Then her blood froze.

One of the drones had rammed Clint against the wall, holding him up against it by his throat, choking the life out of him. Shit. He was struggling against its grip but the pressure points and hold breaks that they would typically use against human opponents were ineffective against Stark's drones.

She sent two bullets in the direction of the drone. One glanced off its shoulder and the other grazed its thigh. She daren't shoot any closer to its head for fear of a ricochet hitting Clint. He was still gasping but his struggles were becoming weaker.

She acted on instinct. Sprinting towards it, she launched herself at the drone wrapping her legs around its waist and her arm around its throat. It quickly dropped Clint, reaching behind to yank her away. Its hand found her shoulder and clenched into a fist around it, metal fingers biting into her flesh. She yelled out but Clint was still on the ground, dazed and gasping for breath.

She was left with one option. Her Widow's bites. Without her suit to provide insulation from the electricity, it was a spectacularly bad option. She flexed her fingers than pulled the drone's head to the side and jammed her fist into its exposed neck.

Her bite crackled harshly and she felt the drone twitch and deaden. Then she felt the electricity rip through her and the world went black.

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A/N oooh a bit dramatic, I know... but i hope you enjoyed it. I'll have a short follow up chapter to this (a scene that doesn't appear in the movie but i think will fit quite well) next but after that i'm not quite sure what i'll jump to so any suggestions are welcome.


	9. Patching Up

A/N wow, thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter, seriously, they make my day. And make me write faster- as if i even need an excuse to procrastinate about revision haha. Warning for some non-Captain-America-approved words in this chapter. I can almost hear the 'Language!' in my ear.

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Natasha kept her eyes closed and her heartrate steady as she began to regain consciousness, taking the time to work out exactly where she was. The world felt muffled and hazy. Wherever she was, it wasn't where she remembered falling. She did a quick assessment of any wounds. Her shoulder was sore. She had a two small electrical burns- one on the base of her thumb, the other on the inside of her heel. Oh yes… now she remembered. Aside from that she was thirsty and aching. Nothing too unusual.

As she regained her faculties, she became aware of shouting. One of the voices was Clint's, of that she had not doubt. She couldn't quite place the other one. Until…

"What the hell were you thinking, Stark?" Clint yelled. Of course he was yelling at Tony, but about what?

"I put a safeguard in Spidey's bites to ensure nothing like that would ever happen!" Tony yelled back.

"Oh yeah? Then what the fuck happened then, genius?!"

"I don't know! They were programmed not to discharge unless the Natasha was insulated from the effects- whether by her target's clothing or her own didn't matter! I don't know what went wrong!" Stark replied angrily. Nat got the feeling that he was yelling at himself just as much as he was Clint. Alright, enough of all this yelling.

She blinked her eyes open and groaned as the stark lights of the medical floor assaulted her retinas. She rolled her head to the side and tried to sit up. Damn she felt tired, it was like her limbs were encased in lead.

Almost immediately Clint was by the bed. "How're you feeling? Aside from 'fried' that is?" His tone was casual and there was a slight smirk on his face but she could see the concern in his eyes. She nodded groggily and pressed her palm to her forehead, trying to dispel the headache that was already forming.

"I removed… the safeguard" She croaked, wincing a little.

"You did what?!" Came the unified reply.

"In my defence… I hadn't been planning on wrapping my legs around a metal robot zappin' the shit out of it any time soon." She tried to crack a smile but she was in no doubt that it came out as a grimace. "So yeah… my bad."

"Debil." Clint muttered. Even with a simple insult he always managed to Americanise (by which she meant butcher) her beloved Russian. She guessed she sorta deserved it this time though. She sat up properly and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Hold up right there, Widow." Stark said instantly, "You're not going anywhere until Banner's checked you over."

She raised her eyebrow at him. And just how would he plan on stopping her? Wait, Banner. "Bruce made it down to the lab then? No incidents?"

Now Tony smiled. "No incidents, no. But he took a couple of wrong turns, several in fact, en route to the lab. Ended up trapped in Point Break's bathroom."

She swayed a little on her feet but recovered herself quickly. She wanted to get back up to their floor, then Clint could patch her up before they got the full debriefing on last night- was it last night? What time was it?- from Steve.

Clint watched her carefully, he'd seen her look better but he'd also seen her look one hell of a lot worse. She reached to the side to pick up her weapons. But as her fingers brushed her bites, she shook violently, convulsing. He all but leapt to her, catching her as she fell. "Nat?!"

And then he heard her laughing. Holy shit she was going to pay for that.

"I'm kidding." She chuckled, straightening and collecting her weapons. "Relax, boys. I've got no more plans to get my nerves tickled today." Nerves tickled… yeah really funny, Nat. Real funny.

Tony looked like he'd just had a heart attack. "Not cool, Widow. Seriously not cool."

Natasha just walked out the door. "Coming, Barton?"

Once in their room- well technically it was Nat's room, but they'd both been sleeping in it since they'd moved into the Tower even if Stark was none the wiser- Nat sat on the bed with her legs crossed while he grabbed the first aid kit from the closet. He also grabbed her cleaning kit. He settled behind her and snapped on a pair of latex gloves, grabbing a little dish and some forceps. She still had some broken glass in her shoulder.

"What were you thinking?" He asked quietly, plucking the first shard from her skin.

She shrugged the other shoulder. "It was strangling you." She murmured, "You were suffocating." She set about disassembling her gun, laying the parts out for cleaning.

"I wouldn't have let it get that far." He removed another shard.

"Oh really because the colour of your face and the way your eyes were bulging said otherwise." She snapped. He paused for a second, shocked: she was mad at him, really mad at him.

"Woah, where's this coming from?"

"Where's this coming from." She repeated, shaking her head. "I almost lost you in Sokovia, Clint. You went into v-fib on the plane!" She turned to face him. "Do you have any idea how terrifying that was, watching Bruce with the defibrillator, being completely powerless to do anything?" She turned back so that he could continue. "Two days isn't long enough to level out from that, Clint. So when I took down that drone, I wasn't thinking, okay? I was just terrified of losing you."

So this was why she'd been so tense since they got back from Sokovia. He kissed her neck gently. "It'll take more than one of Stark's tin soldiers to take me down."

Nat snorted. "Yeah, clearly."

"In fact, I refuse on principle to be taken down by any of Stark's contraptions." He paused, finishing removing the last of the glass, before whispering, "I'm sorry for scaring you." She just nodded. He sprayed a little antiseptic over the now empty cuts. A couple would need butterfly strips but they would heal quickly. "You scared me too, when you collapsed last night." He admitted softly.

"Then I guess we're even." She murmured, leaning back into him as his finished patching up her shoulder. He rubbed gentle circles around her arms.

"You know, we're probably lucky that the team was too busy watching me almost die to notice your reaction. They'd have finally found out about us."

She elbowed him in the ribs. Hard.

"Too soon?"

"Way too fuckin' soon."

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A/N so i hope you enjoyed the angsty/humour/fluff chapter, back on with the movie next chapter. Even if i still haven't decided which scene i'll do next haha


	10. Captive Or Not

A/N thank you so much for the continued support on this fic and apologies for the delay. I've rewritten this scene because A) BlackHawk, always BlackHawk, and B) there's not way Natasha would have been sitting around twiddling her thumbs waiting to be rescued. Just no.

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"Come on" she muttered to the panel in the wall, her brow creased in concentration. She had already rewired the lock on the cell door. Now all she had to do was reset the control panel and she'd be busting out of here in no time. She suspected the team would be here soon but she'd never been one to sit around and play the victim. In fact, given the current tally between herself and Clint, she really couldn't afford to waste any time.

What tally, you ask? Okay, so, every time she had to rescue Clint, she gained a point. Whenever he was required to rescue her, he gained a point. The tally had been running for the duration of their sixteen year partnership. The tally currently stood at Natasha – 17, Clint – 12. She had a five point lead. She wanted to keep it that way.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of the wires beneath her fingertips. Just one more…. Suddenly an arrow hit the control box. It was one of Clint's EMP arrows. As the lock clicked open she cursed softly.

"Hey, honey, I'm home!" His voice sang around the ultronmade cavern.

"Took your sweet time!" She yelled back, wincing a little as her head pulsed; that was quite a hit the Ultron-bot had loosed on her.

"Sorry, sweetie, traffic was hell" He appeared in front of her, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. "And I make that 17-13, I'm clawing it back!" He opened the door to her cell with a flourish.

"Don't 'sweetie' me and don't even think about claiming this as a rescue. Another second and I'd have had it!" She replied, narrowing her eyes. Somehow his grin became even smugger. "The score remains at 17-12, young Damsel." She patted his cheek with an air of condescension that was usually only achieved by Tony.

"But you claimed Marrakech!" He whined, passing her the weapons that Ultron had removed from her.

"You were still in handcuffs." She replied, arching an eyebrow. Hell yes she had claimed Marrakech; there was no way he'd have got out of that without her. And he knew it. But she supposed that competitiveness and stubbornness were two of the defining qualities of their relationship.

"Fine. Whatever. We can argue about the score once we're done dealing with Ultron's temper tantrum." He stopped for a second, his expression swiftly changing to one of concern. He looked her up and down. "Any injuries?" He asked quietly. She could see the relief in the lines of his face. Her being taken had scared the hell out of him. This was his way of saying thank God she was okay.

"No," She replied just as quietly. She leant her forehead against his for a moment. "I'm okay." Yes, she was sore. Yes, she had some pretty spectacular bruises forming beneath her suit. But that wasn't what he needed to hear right now. He kissed her quickly before pulling back, smiling.

"Good, because we have a job to do. About time we earned that pay check don't you think, sw-"

"Don't do it!"

"-eetie." He grinned at her and winked. She punched his arm. He let her.

"I earn that pay check just by partnering up with you." She deadpanned. They both knew it was true, hell, Phil had told them as much more often than they'd care to count. He punched her arm. She let him.

"Alright then," He started to say, getting down to business. Now it was Nat's turn to grin.

"Oh, hang on. Before we get started, let me just-" She made as if to rummage in non-existent pockets for something.

"Nat, what are you doing?" He asked in confusion.

"Sorry, just getting my bucket list out- want to make sure I tick off 'get ripped out of the sky by Ultrondroid' before we go save the world again."

He punched her arm again. Hard.

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A/N hope you enjoyed that, leave a review and let me know :D honestly not sure when the next chapter will be up but there shouldn't be such a long wait this time


	11. We Did Good Today

A/N as always, thank you so much for all your support in this fic (long live Clintasha in the non-canon universe). This will likely be the final chapter in my AoU rewrite, unless anyone desperately wants to see another/follow up scene. Again, you guys have been awesome.

Enjoy the last chapter :D

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Dust, sweat and smoke were all Natasha could smell. She wiped her brow, marvelling briefly at her lack of sweat patches- where would she be without goretex, eh? Joking aside, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, today would turn out to be a good day. The people around her were no longer screaming. Sure, they were scared but the blind terror was gone. They felt safe- safe being a relative term- and so far as she could tell, they had faith in the Avengers. It felt good to be a part of that.

She quickly surveyed the 'lifeboat', the last one headed for the Helicarrier. The few remaining evacuees were being helped on board by Pietro, a lullabied Banner was tending to the wounded and Clint was… She whipped her eyes back and forth. Where was Clint?

"-was in the market!" A mother's desperate plea reached her ears.

She closed her eyes and sighed resignedly. She knew where he was. She felt a rush of affection as she turned to see him jogging over to the market. He dropped to one knee and picked up a small figure, the woman's son. Smiling softly, she was about to check if she could help Bruce with the wounded. But then the all-too-familiar rat-tat-tat of a machine gun sounded behind her.

She spun around again, her heart in her mouth as her eyes settled immediately on the rogue quinjet. It was bearing down on Clint. A stream of bullets closing in fast, leaving dust and smoke in their wake.

"Clint!" His name tore from her throat, a terrified warning, a prayer. He heard her, he always did. But as his eyes met hers, their gaze shared the same fact. He didn't have time. And as he turned away from the bullets, away from her, and used his body as a shield for the boy, Natasha fell to her knees.

Any strength she possessed left her. She could do nothing but watch, a wordless, broken scream ripping through her as dust, smoke and bullets consumed him. Seconds, hours, minutes, or years could have passed in that moment, it wouldn't have mattered. The pain, no, the agony, constricting in her chest was worse than any damage ever caused by a bullet or knife.

She found herself stumbling blindly towards where she knew he had been as the dust began to settle. She heard Bruce behind her, yelling at her that there wasn't time. She ignored him; being an Avenger, saving the world, all that meant nothing without Clint. Meant nothing if she couldn't take him home.

Finally, dreadfully, the smoke cleared.

The sight that met her eyes wasn't right. There were three figures. A small one, the child. Another was lying on the ground, motionless. The last, the one with a bow strapped across his back, was crouched over the second. The archer was moving, _her_ archer was moving. Relief swept over her like a tidal wave, almost causing her to fall.

But as she ran over, that blessed relief turned to ash. She recognised the man lying on the ground and her mind pieced together what had happened in an instant.

"No, no, don't do this to me, kid. Stay with me!" Clint was shouting hoarsely, pressing his hands against the bullet wounds in Pietro's torso. He didn't have enough hands. Quicksilver had a small, strained smile on his face.

"Bet you didn't see that coming." He gasped softly. His eyes kept closing as he slipped closer and closer to unconsciousness.

"Quit talking, smartass. And for the record, I didn't." Clint replied. His voice was also strained and fear twisted his features. "Tasha, help me!" He all but shouted as Pietro lost consciousness. Natasha was already there, stemming the blood flow from remaining bullet wounds. "Come on Maximoff, stay with me!" He yelled at Pietro's limp form.

Natasha checked for a pulse. She found it but it was weak and thready. Pietro was running out of time, they all were. "Clint, get him to the lifeboat. Banner can help him there. We have to go _now._" He didn't respond, he was going into shock, franticly patting Pietro's face, willing him to wake up. She backhanded him without a second thought, snapping him out of it. "Clint! Now!"

She watched as he switched back into mission mode.

"Right, yeah. Okay, I've got him. Get the boy." He said as he hoisted Pietro over his shoulder. Maximoff groaned involuntarily as he did so. A good sign.

The boy was standing mute, staring in shock at Pietro's seemingly lifeless form slung over Clint's shoulder. He was terrified. He looked ready to bolt. She knelt down in front of him. "Hey, kid." She said gently in Russian, praying that the boy understood the other official language of Sokovia. His eyes widened a little in understanding. She slowly placed her hands on his shoulders. "I know you're scared, and that's okay, but I need you to be brave now. Brave like a superhero. Can you do that for me?"

The boy nodded uncertainly, standing a little straighter.

"Okay, buddy, I'm going to take you to your mom." She gathered him in her eyes and settled him on her hip, one hand steadying his body, the other cradling his head into her shoulder. Then she ran, following Clint towards the lifeboat. She could Cap stood on the gangway, yelling at them to hurry.

Her breathing was ragged by the time she reached the lifeboat and passed the terrified child to his mother. Bruce was already working on Pietro; Clint was holding up an IV fluid bag as Bruce pressed gauze to the wounds. Gauze that was quickly soaked through with blood. The lifeboat shuddered as it broke away from the would-be Sokovian meteorite. She knelt next to Pietro, helping Bruce as best she could. The young man's face was ashen and his breathing was shallow. He was fast running out of time.

* * *

Maximoff had been wheeled away on a gurney to the emergency department the moment the lifeboat had docked. He was still in surgery. Clint and Natasha were sitting in the waiting room, waiting, hoping, praying that he'd pull through. Clint had already donated two pints of his blood to supplement the infirmary blood bank. He was O negative, a universal donor. Natasha had also donated blood but she was AB positive, a universal recipient. The Red Room had engineered her that way.

They both sat hunched over, elbows resting on their knees, fingers entwined. They stared blankly ahead of them.

"We did good today." Clint said quietly. She nodded silently, tightening her grip on his hand.

"We did." And that mattered. It mattered that two… reformed… assassins could do something good in this world. It mattered that despite their pasts, their histories, they could make a difference. It mattered because then, no matter what happened, they knew that Pietro, Quicksilver, had saved two people, a partnership, worth saving.

* * *

A/N thanks for sticking with me on this story. I've decided to let you decide for yourselves if Quicksilver survives or not (I, myself think that with his ultrafast metabolism etc there's every chance he'd pull through but if you prefer a bittersweet ending then who am I to stand in your way?)


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